


Pining

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boys In Love, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Original Fiction, Pining, Real life fiction adaption, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:13:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 2





	Pining

_**One** _

Pining is a weird word, but it was the only way he could think to describe what he felt as he stared - chin resting on his hand - across the table at the one to hold his affection; the noise of the room faded, and it just seemed to be him and this one freeze-frame of a blonde boy, laughing, and reaching to hit a friend resting next to him, and so he was understandably confused (read: agitated) at the noise when pulled out of his reverie. 

"Bill, I asked you a question, you twat!" And what a joyful way to be greeted by life it was! Everything seemed suddenly too loud after everything had faded, but he schooled his face into a smile.

"What do you want, tranny?" He couldn't keep the slight degree of malice out of his voice: he was having a bit of a time trying to keep his eyes off of the boy (James) that always had his eyes straying, and it was making him ever so slightly bitter - not that he'd ever admit it.

"Are you okay? You were really zoned out? I was worried, is all." The care made Bill soften. He, with a smile, rectified his previous spite with an apology and a vague excuse of tiredness - luckily that mollified his friend enough that he was finally left alone with his thoughts and the sight of a beautiful, if nerdy, boy sat opposite him. 

James was different to how he saw everyone else. Bill, if asked, would describe James as a 'cutie pie' (not that he'd ever admit it); to his shame James filled his stomach with gentle butterflies, and his heart with warmth. James was handsome, sensitive, silly, sexy - everything most strive to be - and yet James saw none of it.

Bill, deep down somewhere he had repressed what he knew to be negative, wondered whether there was a chance that James would ever - _could_ ever - see him that way: see him as someone worth loving.

Of course, this was not something Bill would ever talk about, but every second he spent staring without the blonde nerd staring back was another second he retracted deeper to that place of doubt, and longing, and into the pure, unadulterated _need_ to hold the boy close and whispers words of caring, branding kisses to his face and words to his heart.

Every second he stared, uninterrupted, he wanted James more.

* * *

"F-fuck," James stuttered as he got his hand around his cock for the second time that evening. He just didn't feel... sated. He squeezed lightly and picked up a movement and pace in his wrist that he had perfected over the last few weeks of neediness that stretched through the day. He ran a finger along the ridge of the top of his cock, and shuddered when he found the nerve. 

He whined in the back of his throat. It felt good, sure, but it just _wasn't enough_. He ran his finger along the head, gathering a pearl of precome to spread down his length, and moaned openly. Oh, the joys of being home alone.

He decided the feeling just wasn't enough. He tried to picture some sort of scene he wanted. He imagined the weight of hands pinning down his shoulders, and lips and teeth on his neck. 

He tried to imagine the feeling of hands drifting from his shoulders to his waist, how it would feel to have some other man holding him. 

He pictured rough hands pushing his hand away to take his cock instead. He created the perfect image of someone else guiding him through his pleasure - someone else's fingers teasing the well placed nerve he felt needed to have gently pressed. He tried to imagine he wasn't the one in control.

All he wanted was someone to make him feel good.

With a desperate whine he came on his hand and across his stomach.  
"Shit" He muttered as he grabbed a tissue to clean himself up. He still felt oddly hollow. He still felt like he hadn't done enough to sate the odd hunger he felt. He needed something ( _someone_ ) else.

* * *

Bill had decided a long while ago that he was definitely in love with James; the boy just seemed so perfect. Bill was not the sort of person who was up for many heart-to-heart conversations, but he found himself constantly wanting to open up to him. He wanted James to trust him that way too, and he was hoping that he could eventually persuade the boy to.

Not that that would be an easy feat, by any means; James was more than content to spend his time dealing with his own issues.

Speaking of issues...

Lunch was probably one of the most awkward he'd had yet. With his friendship group the way it was, he probably should have expected the conversation to turn at some point, but this is not the direction he expected.

"Do it, James, it'd be funny!" Molly goaded, not really expecting James to concede. Bill had been talking to the people on the other side of the table and James (for once) had slipped his notice. 

"No!" The high pitch voice tried to yell with out drawing attention.  
"That would be really weird!" Molly and Max glared at him, having decided something needed to be done about Bill's incessant staring, that James - _somehow_ \- had yet to notice.

He sighed deeply, resigned.   
"Fine!" He said with an awkward laugh.

They all joined the other conversation, trying to 'act casual', if you will. It took about ten minutes for Bill to finally jolt. He looked down, his face flushed, and he looked away. The two sat by James shared knowing looks, and tried to breeze over the situation as James' face heated to match Bill's.

His hand had reached to grab Bill's cock, and he had yet to release the cloth covered flesh, even as it slowly started to harden. 

If you listened closely enough you could hear James slowly counting under his breath before he finally moved his hand.

The feel of Bill's semi was slowly engraving itself into his mind. He had been so horny just lately, and the feel of another man in his hand had steadily dragged blood from his face to somewhere decidedly more... South.

He wriggled awkwardly, Bill mirroring his actions, and they both pulled their coats over their laps; it was an awkward movement that would have drawn attention had it not been so cold.

That was going to fuel all sorts of fantasies later.

* * *

Calloused hands ran along thin hips, painting pale skin red and leaving tingling sensations in their wake. 

Long, clumsy fingers grasped at bedsheets, looking for any sort of purchase. Desperate breath and whimpers escaping from behind thin lips.

"B-Bill _please_! I need it, fuck I need you so bad!" James whined, trying to buck his hips up to meet the slightly shorter boy's. 

"Hush, James. Be patient, yeah?" James whined. He shifted impatiently as Bill gently bit, sucked, and marked his neck. All he really needed in that moment was for Bill to finally touch him, or fuck him. Either way he needed him in a way that wasn't so PG-13. 

He could have sobbed when a hand finally wrapped around his dick, moving without awkwardness or hesitation. It seemed practiced, but James new it couldn't have been. 

He felt pushed in a way he hadn't quite been yet. He felt a little more sated as he released over himself and finally felt a little less like nothing was working to fulfill him.

He opened eyes he had screwed shut to himself in his room, alone, hand around himself and cum up his stomach. He decided it wasn't just _anyone_ he needed. He needed something specific. 

He needed _Bill_.

* * *

Similarly, Bill had been picturing James. He hadn't wanked in a while, but he also hadn't been this hard in a while.

He kept thinking of the way James held him. He couldn't keep his mind off of the way James flushed, or the way his fingers tightened when Bill became steadily less soft in his hand.

Even then, three or four hours after it had happened, Bill was painfully hard thinking about the thing James had done, and all the things he wanted to do in return.

He finally wrapped a hand around his most sensitive part of him, and shuddered at the cold on his blood-heated skin. He was practically dripping precome, beads pearling at the tip of his cock before running down alongside a raised vein. 

He swiped it all off with the pad of his thumb and began to wank himself off to the picture of the one he wanted to be his babyboy on his knees in front of him. They had established that blowing someone just wasn't something James could do (god knows why that discussion had arose) but the sinful image made Bill's spine tingle, and his toes curl.

The feeling of a tight fist around him and the image of the beautifully sexy blonde looking up at him through slightly wet lashes - lips stretched around his cock, and moans slipping from a gagged throat - had Bill coming oddly quickly. It took a matter of minutes before he was taking an old t-shirt to wipe himself clean. 

He thought about what James may look like afterwards. His hair would be a mess from Bill's fingers coursing through it, his eyes would be slightly wet from tears caused by small gags, his lips would be red and swollen from stretching to take in his length. 

He was lucky he had only just came because he most likely would have been hard again otherwise.

Besides, that image could just be saved for a later date.


End file.
